A few hours ago...
Eliron's Constance, his inner world, was far different than he remembered, actually, it was so different that it seemed foreign.
In the past, Eliron believed the green grass he sat on would one day fill the entirety of the world, a sign of growth, of progress.
But it turned out to be the reverse. Green had completely vanished from the landscape, even the gray grass had changed, a strange mix of colours, grey at the steam, a tint of purple at the tips.
It made the world look… ethereal. Some crumbled buildings seemed to have reconstructed themselves, standing like sentries lost to time, while others remained in shambles.
Staring at them, Eliron felt there was something unique about their origin. Could this place really be a seed born from his imagination?
The runic symbols etched on the doors, the cracked stone paths, the purple, veiled sky. and the once crystal clear lake—now turning red. It seemed just a little too detailed to be imagined…
